Remember
by DinerGuy
Summary: The one memory they all wanted to forget was the one they never would. Warning: Character death. Bring your tissues.


This story would never have come to completion if it weren't for veggiewoppa on PsychFic. If it weren't for her, it would still be "rotting in the oblivion of cyberspace." Seriously, I've had it on my flash drive since early summer 2009, yet I hardly did anything with it until she made me.

Betaed by veggiewoppa, as well. Any mistakes are mine.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in here. I'm just borrowing them, and no money is being made from this.

This is one of the first really angsty stories I've ever done. Certainly one of the first death fics. I hope I did it justice. And yes, this fic contains a main character's death.

Originally written January 2010

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SHAWN

He didn't want to remember. As he waited on his dad to come for him, he cursed his eidetic memory. It worked wonders for his job, but he really, really didn't need it right now.

The fateful night played before his eyes every time he closed them. The memories haunted his dreams when he tried to sleep, fleeting ghosts bringing back the feelings he'd tried so hard to squelch.

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"Are you sure you're going to try to get along with your dad tonight?" Gus asked.

Shawn sighed, looking out the passenger window. "As long as he tries, too. You can't expect me to stay quiet if he starts lecturing."

This earned him a pointed look. "You two got in a fight earlier, didn't you?"

"I don't see why he had to call and make sure I was still coming. I normally let him know if I have to cancel."

"Yeah, but you do that an awful lot," Gus pointed out. "He may have just been trying to save the time of cooking for all three of us if you weren't planning on showing up." The light turned green, and he pressed down on the accelerator, crossing through the intersection.

Opening his mouth to retort, Shawn was interrupted by the screeching of tires. In the split second before impact, the interior of the Echo was lit up by the headlights of the approaching vehicle.

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His dad was late. That wasn't like him, especially for this sort of occasion. They needed to be on time, if not early.

It wasn't like they were going to the movies – or even on a fishing trip. This was one of the most important places ever.

Besides, the longer his dad took, the more time he had to think. His mind wasn't on pineapples or raccoons or anything else at the moment. It was on the one thing he wanted most to forget.

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Inside the wreckage, Shawn slowly opened his eyes. He was unsure of how long he'd been out and not even all that sure of why he had blacked out in the first place. His head hurt too much to focus on anything.

And then it came back to him, much clearer than he would have liked. The argument … The rain … The lights of another car blaring through Gus' window …

Gus!

Shawn tried to turn to make sure his friend was all right, but a sharp pain in his neck made him change his mind. He reflexively raised his right hand to grab at his neck but discovered it was impossible.

Somehow he remembered to keep his neck still as he moved his eyes downward. It didn't take long for him to spot the source of his problem. The passenger door was jammed inward, and his arm was caught in the twisted metal.

This was definitely not good.

He tried to move the rest of his body, to take stock of his injuries, and nearly passed out again from the pain. With a groan, he shifted his eyes to the left. He could just barely make out Gus in the driver's seat.

"Gus?" he called. It came out more as a croak and elicited no response from his friend. He tried again, but there was still no sign that he had been heard.

Shawn was surprised to find the little bit of activity had tired him out. His eyes began drifting closed as thumping came from the outside of the car.

"Hello? Are you all right in there?" The voice seemed to come from far away.

Shawn knew he should respond, and he did try, but nothing came out. The interior of the Echo faded to black as sirens filled the air.

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HENRY

Pressing the accelerator down till it nearly reached the floorboards, Henry made his way to his son's apartment. He was flustered over the broken pipe at his house, though more at the fact that it had made him late than at the actual damage. He knew how important this was.

He just couldn't believe it was actually happening. There was no reason they should have to be going. It should still be another few decades before there was any ceremony like this – and he shouldn't even be there. He was the older one; he should be the one who went first.

It shouldn't be happening this way.

The memories of that night had been playing through his head since he'd risen that morning. As he'd showered, eaten, and headed out the door to pick up his son, he found he could not forget the call that changed all of their lives.

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An irate Henry Spencer sat picking at his meal. Of all the times his son had been late, this time really frustrated him. Shawn had said he'd be there, yet he hadn't called to cancel. They'd even gotten into a fight over the whole thing. It had been almost half an hour, and he and Gus still hadn't arrived.

Henry had called multiple times during the day to make sure Shawn hadn't forgotten about their plans. In the midst of the argument they'd gotten into, he'd made his son promise to be there that night.

And now his son's phone wasn't even picking up. All the calls went straight to voicemail.

Shawn was ignoring him; he just knew it.

Finally, he'd had enough. Henry got up and dumped his dishes in the sink, moving to put away the food.

He had just finished shutting the refrigerator door when the phone rang. Assuming it was Shawn, he rolled his eyes and picked up the receiver.

The number displayed on the screen didn't belong to either Shawn or Gus. Henry's eyes narrowed when he recognized Carlton Lassiter's number. What was the detective doing, calling him this late in the evening?

"Hello?"

"Henry? This is Detective Carlton Lassiter."

"Yes, I know who you are, Detective. Why are you calling me at this time of night?"

"I'm calling to inform you that your son was in an accident." The words were straightforward and put together, as if the call was a routine report, but Henry could tell there was more in the tone than what had been said aloud.

"What? Is Shawn okay? What happened?"

"It appears that your son and Mr. Guster crossed an intersection as a drunk driver ran a red light."

Henry's heart dropped. Drunk driving accidents rarely turned out well. "Tell me he's at the hospital, Detective," he said, willing the answer to be yes. He didn't think he'd be able to handle it otherwise.

As soon as the word 'yes' left the detective's mouth, Henry was out the door.

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LASSITER

It was harder than he wanted it to be. He tried to keep his face granite, tried to seem unaffected, but it was nearly impossible.

As he buttoned his jacket, he stared at himself in the mirror, noticing in dissatisfaction the dark circles under his eyes. He ran a brush through his hair and headed for his car.

Unlocking his door, he surveyed his vehicle in disgust. He'd have to look into getting a new car. Maybe he could trade it in … All he knew was he would never be able to get over that horrible night unless he got rid of it. It only served to remind him of the weapon that had taken a good man from the force.

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He hesitated to answer the older man's question. "Yes, but they aren't making any promises. It was pretty bad …" Lassiter trailed off when he realized there was no one on the other line.

"You called him?" Juliet asked, coming to stand beside him.

"Yeah," Lassiter nodded. "He's on his way."

"McNabb's finishing taking the witnesses' statements," she said. "We can head over to the hospital."

"Right. Go on. I'll meet you there."

Even in the half-light of dusk, her face was paler than normal. They both knew the danger Shawn and Gus were in.

The driver of the blue Crown Vic had sustained a few injuries, but he was fine. He would live. The same could not be said for either consultant.

Both were still hanging on when the ambulances pulled out, but the paramedics weren't holding out too much hope.

Juliet turned and jogged over to her car, parked along the side of the road near the accident. After her headlights turned on, Lassiter started his own vehicle. With a grim face, he pulled out and headed to the hospital.

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JULIET

She pulled to a stop at the light, staring out of her window at nothing in particular. The day seemed too bright and sunny to include the activities it did.

There should be a rule, she decided. There should be a rule that there could only be rain and clouds on days like the one in front of her.

A horn blared behind her, and she looked up, startled. The light was green so she pulled through. The scenario only served to remind her of another drive she'd made the week before – one of the worst drives in her life.

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She hated that drive more than any other she'd ever taken. But it was the few minutes after she got to the hospital that she hated even more. That was when the doctor had approached her. As she was the first of the group to announce herself as being with Shawn Spencer and Burton Guster, the doctor decided to make her the recipient of the news.

One of the men hadn't made it to the hospital. The other had been rushed straight to surgery.

The doctor patted her shoulder and left, leaving her to collapse upon herself in one of the plastic waiting room chairs.

Gus' parents arrived soon afterwards. Their faces mirrored the other's, strained and worried. Winnie clutched her husband's hand. Her eyes found Juliet as the detective slowly rose.

Dreading the coming conversation, Juliet swallowed hard. When she looked back at the Gusters, she could see it in their faces. They knew what had happened.

They knew they had lost a part of their hearts.

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BUZZ

Staring blankly up at the church door, he adjusted his uniform. He was around death every day on the job, but this was different.

Death just seemed more tragic when it hit close to home. Not that it wasn't tragic when the victim was a stranger, but knowing them made it hurt in a different place, a place closer to the heart.

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It had just been a normal night on patrol before the call came. A few minor calls came in here and there, but otherwise it was pretty quiet.

That's when it happened. That's when the call came.

True, he didn't remember everything, but Buzz would not be forgetting that voice on the radio anytime soon.

The time between receiving the call and arriving at the scene were a bit of a blur, but the scene itself was crystal clear in his mind's eye.

He'd spent enough time on the force to know that these sort of accidents rarely ended well for anyone else. Very rarely did people survive unscathed after being hit by someone driving under the influence.

The scene that greeted his eyes as he braked to a stop did nothing to ease his worrying. The Echo – or what remained of it – rested with the passenger side door up against a telephone pole. It was hard to tell exactly what damage was done to that side, but the window was smashed, and the pole itself was splintered from the impact. The side opposite the pole was smashed, the dent covering the entire driver's side door. Besides a cracked windshield, there were various other dents around the remainder of the car.

By comparison, the other car had gotten off easily. It sat partway through the intersection with nothing but a smashed hood to show it had been in a collision.

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It was a somber group that took their seats that day, each caught in their own thoughts.

Shawn of the lifetime of memories he'd built with the man who was as close as a blood brother could have ever been. The one who would join him in his foolishness yet keep him under control.

Henry of the man who had become his second son, the one on whom he could count to always keep his real son out of real trouble, even if they did cause trouble some – no, most of the time.

Lassiter of the consultant who was never in the foreground of the investigations, but always there with help, even though he never got much recognition.

Juliet of the friend who was content to be just that. He was more than just a coworker, but not in _that_ way. He was one of her few male acquaintances who didn't seem to feel obligated to flirt whenever they were around each other.

Buzz of the pharmaceutical rep who had never become as close of a friend as he would have liked. Gus often made remarks to Shawn about having a "real" job, and the officer had never wanted to be another obstacle in his career. Now, when it was too late to change anything, he realized the other man would have welcomed his friendship.

The ceremony itself passed them by, hardly registering in their minds. It was as if they didn't quite want to admit the man on the slideshow was never coming back. It was as if he would come walking through the door any moment to take his place with them, where he belonged, as opposed to the closed casket at the front of the room.

It wasn't until they were in the cemetery, after the pastor had finished his closing prayer, that the reality sunk in.

The steady _thump, thump_ of the dirt being dropped into the fresh grave echoed around them, seeming to echo their footsteps as they walked back to their cars. It seemed to make its way into their very beings, thumping in rhythm with their hearts as they weaved their way through the tombstones.

The deep, solemn sound pounded through their thoughts. He's gone. He's gone. He's gone.

It seemed appropriate when thunder rumbled overhead, when rain started pattering their windshields as they pulled into the street. It was as if the world knew that nothing was normal any longer.


End file.
